A Gifted Storm
by NessieGG
Summary: ShikaTem. One shot. A sand storm in Suna worries Shikamaru as Temari goes into labor for the birth of their second child. Written for Ramachan's naming contest.


**Author's Notes: **This is my entry in Rama-chan's baby-naming contest for ShikaTem. You can find all of her stunning work on Deviant Art. Undiluted fluff here. Also some details are inspired by her paintings.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto and am making no profit from this fan fiction.

**A Gifted Storm**

By Nessie

Sunagakure was harassed by temperamental winds on the day Nara Shikamaru's second child was born. The onslaught of wind and sand arrived at the worst time, mere seconds after his wife's water broke, signaling the birth's commencement.

Shikamaru hurried (for once) about their flat in the dry, dusty village, shutting windows with Kankurou before they were knee-deep in sand. "This is..."

"Troublesome?" guessed his brother-in-law.

Sighing, he shook his hood. "Typical. I can't figure out why Temari wanted to have the baby in Suna."

A little affronted, Kankurou frowned and gouged deep lines into his face paint. "Konoha isn't exactly immune to storms."

"_Rain _storms. Rain wouldn't keep us away from the hospital. Is that damn doctor here yet?"

Shikamaru did not yell, Kankurou noted, but when it came to his children, his likeness to Temari really made itself known. For the sake of his family, he could be just as demanding as the blond-haired kunoichi. It was encouraging to Temari's brother, as well as annoying.

"Relax," said Kankurou. "She's on the way. Besides, you remember when Hatsune was born. It'll be at least a few hours before Temari delivers."

Rationality, Shikamaru thought, would be a good thing to have a grip on at the moment. Of course, it was hard to grip any kind of mental state (other than "nervous wreck") when his wife was in the next room emitting something between a squeal and a growl. "Contraction number one," he murmured, his voice coated by thickening dread. "One of _so _many."

Kankurou might have smirked. There was just something oddly amusing about witnessing the dissolve of a shinobi's composure, maintained without fail in most situations. Shikamaru was particularly interesting to watch, as he was prone to looking up at the ceiling like he would look up at clouds, as though he were planning for several hundred outcomes in advance; if the baby died, if Temari died, if the doctor didn't arrive, if the storm settled. Hell, Shikamaru probably had a strategy even in the event that Kankurou fell down the stairs and broke his leg.

"Where _is _Hatsune?" the Nara asked suddenly.

"With Gaara," replied Kankurou. "He took her in to see Temari, calm her down a bit."

At that, Shikamaru abandoned whatever strategies he had been formulating and left the room for the bedroom he shared with his wife. Kankurou stayed behind to wait on the doctor and considered making tea for everyone to take the edge off. That was as far as his plans went.

In the bedroom, a chair was positioned beside the bed, and in it sat Gaara with little Hatsune sprawled on his lap. Hatsune was energetic, like her mother, but she seemed to adopt a certain degree of quiet calm when she was with her red-haired uncle. She leaned back against Gaara's chest so that the top of her pigtail brushed his chin.

Shikamaru found Temari in bed, high-piled pillow propping her into a sitting position. Already sweat beaded her forehead, and her blond hair was lank in the single ponytail she had pulled it into. Her eyes went to him immediately, teeth gritted as she fought through another contraction. "Hey," she said tensely when she could.

The greeting eased Shikamaru, and he went over to the side of the bed not occupied by Gaara chair. "How are you?"

She laughed, an airy expulsion of breath. "Pregnant," she joked. "But I'm about to become not pregnant, so it's okay."

Hatsune leaned forward so far that Gaara had to hold her around the wait so she would not topple off his lap. "Mommy hurting?"

Temari winced in some pain, but turned a smile to her daughter. "Nope. Mommy doesn't hurt at all." After a moment, she said, "I smell tea. Is that tea?"

"I'll get it," Gaara told her, carrying Hatsune out with him. They had agreed earlier that the girl was too young to see her mother give birth.

"No hospital?" asked Temari.

"I don't think so." Shikamaru pressed a hand to her damp forehead, drying it with the edge of his sleeve. "It's pretty bad out there."

As though to check in case he was mistaken, Temari glanced out the window, visible now that Gaara had left. Sand battered the glass in grains and clumps. "Damn. I guess that means I get good food, huh?"

"We'll do our best," he promised, the "we" including Shikamaru and his brothers-in-law. At any rate, it didn't look like his mother could arrive with his father until the storm ended. He estimated their arrival for early next morning. Then Temari could have a nice breakfast, and by then he would have a second child. Shikamaru was grateful that his salary had increased last month.

"Doctor?" she asked after some time had passed, while he was dabbing a cold cloth to her face and neck.

"Any minute," said Shikamaru, although he wasn't so sure of that. Gaara had sent out a note a couple of hours ago.

"Hello?" A soft call pervaded the house. "Where is everyone?"

"Right here!" Kankurou's voice answered, and there were shuffling feet and Hatsune's giggles as whoever had arrived spread instant happiness.

"Hatsune,-chan look at you! You're so big! Certainly big enough to be a big sister!"

Gaara's voice was heard but too quietly for the words to be discerned. Presently, the door to the bedroom was opened and a lithe woman with unusual hair stepped inside.

"And how are things going in here?" asked Haruno Sakura.

For a moment, Shikamaru could only blink at her. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Really," snapped Temari. "You are the rudest person I know, Shikamaru." She ignored his flippant mutterings about her lacking a great deal of etiquette herself. "Hi, Sakura."

"Hi. I heard you'd be delivering this weekend, and I wanted to be on hand," Sakura said in explanation of her presence. "Just in case I was needed."

"But this is outside of Konoha jurisdiction," said Shikamaru. "Why would you be given clearance to work here?"

Sakura smiled, her green eyes glittering in restrained humor. "Konoha and Suna are allies. You both are residents of Konoha as well as Suna. And I was given permission by the Kazekage."

Oh. Shikamaru thought his state of impending second fatherhood might be impairing his thinking. Those were all obvious reasons.

"And it looks like I _am_ needed," Tsunade's student went on. "The sand storm may have kept the hired Suna midwife away, but I can tell you that a little bit of desert in th air isn't going to stop me!"

The enthusiasm was appreciated, but Shikamaru was skeptical and held Temari's hand as she groaned from her contraction. "But are you competent?"

"Master Tsunade trained me in all forms of medical studies. I could have delivered a baby when I was fourteen."

He had no reason not to trust Sakura – her talent for medical assistance was renown in almost every country – so he stood up. "Fine. Do your best."

"She's pretty far into the process," Sakura remarked. "It shouldn't be too long now. Please bring me blankets, some warm water, and a scale if you have one. Then I'm going to ask you to leave until after the baby's born."

"Why?" both Temari and Shikamaru asked together, although Temari's was voiced through clenched teeth.

"I admit I can't predict how you'll react, Shikamaru," admitted Sakura. "But some fathers deal with the coming of a second child even worse than with the first. It will be less distracting for Temari-san if you aren't in the room. Play with Hatsune-chan! Relax."

But relaxing, Shikamaru concluded when her requests were fulfilled and he was sitting at the dining room table playing shogi with Hatsune, was easier said than done. His mind was so distracted by the grunts, cries, and occasional curse by his wife in the bedroom that he misdirected a piece and lost to Hatsune for the very first time. This caused the girl to leap up and dance in giddy circles around both of her uncles, who had been discussing village matters but were well entertained by their ecstatic niece.

Gaara glanced over at Shikamaru after another hour had elapsed. "She's fine, you know. It's Temari."

True. There was no exception to Temari's strength, but Shikamaru was still worried that the delivery was not occurring in the sterile domain of a hospital or even a clinic. Hatsune had been born in that environment and had grown into a chipper ball of good nature. What if the new baby became sick because someone in the flat had the first vestiges of a cold or other illness?

Before he could what-if himself into deep depression, the sounds of his wife in pain (already nerve-wracking enough) shifted to a more sorrowful sound: sobbing. Crying. Temari was weeping.

Bolting up from the table, he was at the bedroom door in no more than five lengthy strides and had entered the room in under a second later. "Temari!"

A wet gurgle answered him. His dark eyes went right to the source, a tiny person wrapped in a soft green blanket whose scrunched-up face was growing pinker by the moment. Sakura, who held the tirelessly wailing baby, turned to him with a swing of pink hair and grinned. "Look, Dad! Another pretty baby for grandma to fuss about. And a grandson this time!" She laughed while Shikamaru approached and carefully accepted his son.

The boy's cried were reduced to whimpers, as though he recognized and found comfort in his father's warm arms. Shikamaru was dazed and he carried the baby up to where Temari lay exhausted against the pillows. "Good job," he told her, his voice strangely quiet.

"It was easier this time," Temari said, surprising him. She certainly hadn't made it sound any easier. "He's cute. He's got your nose."

"Your cheekbones," he asserted.

"Your chin."

"Your eyes, if they stay blue."

"I want him to have my hair," decided Temari with finality. "It would be nice if one kid looked like me."

"Would you like me to find something for him to wear?" asked Sakura politely.

"Oh," Temari laughed. "There's a little outfit Ino bought, with the Nara clan symbol and deer booties!"

Sakura appeared on the verge of squealing. "He is so wearing that!" she exclaimed before rushing out of the room to find the squeal-worthy item.

Hatsune soon toddled in the room to find her parents mid-kiss. Not bothered, as this was not unusual either in Suna or Konoha, she climbed onto Shikamaru's lap to peer at her little brother, whom Temari now held. She said nothing at first, and both Shikamaru and Temari waited in some apprehension (they had heard of children who were slow to accept siblings), but then Hatsune asked in the language of very young children, "What name?"

Temari and her husband stared, dumbfounded. The topic had, as yet, not been breached.

Shikamaru held the little girl to him in thanks for the reminder. "Um..."

"I don't know yet," Temari told her sheepishly. "What sounds good to you, Hatsune?"

Hatsune shrugged. "Uncle Kan'rou says storm stopped." She paused, then craned her neck to look up at Shikamaru's distant face. "Name him Arashi?"

Both parents looked at the newborn, then at each other. Temari smiled, and Shikamaru's slowly followed. "Okay," said Hatsune's mother.

"Arashi," Shikamaru agreed. "Nara Arashi."

Sakura returned, with Gaara and Kankurou in tow. Sakura was deftly fielding objections by the more outspoken brother.

"You're not seriously gonna make him wear that?" demanded Kankurou, whose expression was not too dissimilar from his brother-in-law's. "It's not cool at all!"

"He's a baby," Sakura insisted. "He doesn't have to be cool, he's cute."

"It would be cute on a girl."

"So girls don't have to be cool?"

"Just...come on! The booties have antlers!"

Amidst this argument, Gaara took Arashi was Temari's arms while Shikamaru still held Hatsune. It was a special blend of chaos and serenity.

Shikamaru was very grateful for all of it.

**The End**

End Note: "Arashi" is Japanese for "storm."


End file.
